Photoshopped

So yesterday, in a stunning display of bureaucracy, I learned that there was something wrong with my ARC (Alien Registration Card) application. What, you might ask? Oh, the photo I gave them was too big to put on the card. That's right. The photo, from the same sheet of passport-sized photos which I have used twice previous, has eaten way too much over the past few weeks and is too big. So, no ARC for me yet. No bank account. No cell phone. No health care. Go figure.

To remedy this, I went to a photo studio across the street from my school to have a new picture taken. And good god, is that photo studio ever scary. Koreans seem far more obsessed with their outer appearance than Americans, as a whole. Where there is a mirror, there is a middle-aged woman checking out her caked-on makeup that render her kind of prostitute-esque. If one has a decent enough cell phone, well then, train that thing's camera on your mascara and take a quick picture on the subway to make sure that yes!, it looks perfect for that run to the convenience store or coffee place. Dudes are just as guilty, though mostly they are concerned about their sweet 'dos.

So I had my photo taken against a marvelously poop-brown background, and the photographer, free of charge, spent a few moments in Photoshop to make me gawgeous. Yup, it seems standard at this place that NO ONE is good enough to escape the healing brush tool. In my case, apparently there are lines around my eyes. And, wouldn't you know it, he rid me of my unsightly freckles. It makes one self-conscious to watch this person look at you, and decide what defects merit 3 minutes of retouching. But man, if he found so many defects in my face, I wonder how many sleepless nights he slaved away at flawless-faced portraits of ajumma that dot the walls.